Page 10 of Bound to a Scot
Emmeline’s heart dropped into her stomach as a cold, greasy feeling churned in her belly. Cecilia lowered her gaze andrefused to look at her, shame and fear warring upon her features. Emmeline turned back to Burchard as a dark fury rose up within her.
“Ye made a match fer her and ye didnae think tae consult me?” Emmeline hissed.
A smirk touched his lips. “I wasnae aware I had tae.”
“I am yer wife, the lady of the clan.”
“Aye, but she’s yerstepdaughter,” he reminded her. “She’s me daughter.”
“I’ve raised her since she was a bairn. This gives me the right tae have a word in this.”
“Nay. It makes ye a glorified wet nurse.”
“Burchard, she’s too young tae be married.”
“Ye were the same age as Cecilia when we were wed.”
She glowered at him. “Exactly, she is too young.”
He returned her fierce gaze. “She’s in her prime child-bearin’ years. She’ll provide Laird MacLachlan with heirs. ‘Tis what every laird desires.”
His words were said with a pointed glare that made his meaning clear. Emmeline recoiled at the slight, then took a moment to gather herself and shook her head.
“She’s too young, Burchard.”
“Bollocks.”
“Look at our marriage,” Emmeline said, her tone more subdued. “Dinnae ye want more fer yer daughter than what we have? Dinnae ye want her tae find love?”
“What I want is an army. And that is somethin’ Laird MacLachlan can provide,” he said, then added, “Unless ye can provide me with one?”
Emmeline lowered her gaze, a thousand emotions swirling around inside of her. Cecilia remained on the other side of the table, staring down at her plate, her face contorted with her own pain. Emmeline recalled the host of thought and emotion that had warred inside of her when her father had told her she was to be wed, and it was a pain she wished she could have spared the girl.
“Nay?” Burchard pressed. “I thought nae.”
“Burchard, please?—”
“Enough!” he roared, slamming his fist on the table hard enough to rattle all the glasses. “Ye may be me wife, but dinnae make themistake of thinkin’ ye’ve got a voice in consequential matters. Or any matters. I’ll dae what’s best fer the clan?—”
“Ye mean what’s best fer ye.”
“Dinnae test me woman,” he sneered.
Before she could respond, the door opened behind her. Emmeline bit off a withering response as she listened to the sound of heavy bootsteps echoing around the room.
“Laird Maddox MacLachlan,” announced Fingal, the household steward.
Always the proper lady, Emmeline put on her most welcoming and gracious face as she got to her feet. She turned around to see the white-haired man with the intense green-eyed gaze from the inn. All at once, the memory of their kiss and his touch echoed through her mind. Her lips burned as did her breast as she recalled having his hand upon her body.
“Oh, nay,” she said.
CHAPTER SIX
Maddox sat at the far end of the table, opposite Laird Macfie, his stomach twisting and turning into knots as he stole surreptitious glances at the woman from the inn. It didn’t help that he noticed she was doing the same. The woman he’d kissed. The Lady Macfie. Maddox took some wine, trying to swallow down the lump in the middle of his throat.
“Is everythin’ tae yer likin’, Laird MacLachlan?” Macfie asked.
He nodded. “Aye. ‘Tis wonderful,” he said. “And I thank ye again fer yer hospitality.”
